Page 53 of Wed By Proxy

“Guy!” she breathed, and wound her arms about his neck, kissing his cheek and when he turned his head, his lips. He leaned back against the door, shutting it fast behind him. “You’re very early this morning,” she commented, before his lips descended once again on hers.

“Aye,” he rumbled in agreement. “I could not keep away.”

She smiled, letting him see her pleasure at his admission. “I’m glad you came,” she admitted. “When I first awoke, it was chilly without you.”

“You were cold?” he said with a frown.

“Only because the bed’s so large and — well, I slept naked in case you came,” she answered truthfully. “I had to don my shift in the early hours.”

His mouth opened and then shut again. Then he cleared his throat, and to Mathilde’s disappointment, he gently released her so that she stood on her own two feet, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “Let me light the fire down here, we’ll get you warmed up.”

“We’re not going back to bed, then?” Mathilde asked, glancing back at the window. It could not be long past dawn.

He cast her a quick look but was already reaching for the kindling wood. “It won’t take me long,” he said, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

Mathilde sighed. There was a definite nip in the air down here in the kitchen. Still, she supposed Prudie would be pleased to find the kitchen fire all lit and ready when she rose. Then she had an idea.

She turned impulsively toward Guy. “How would it be if we were to arrange everything down here?” she said excitedly. “Toast the bread and fetch in the eggs and everything before Prudie and Rob come below stairs.” He eyed her curiously and she suddenly felt a little childish for suggesting they play house together in such a way. “Of course, if you’d rather not…” she said hurriedly giving him an excuse, but he shook his head.

“Any distraction would be welcome,” she thought he muttered, though she wasn’t sure of it. He was leaning forward now and blowing onto the small flames he’d started.

“I’ll fetch in the eggs,” she said, turning toward the door, but he reached out an arm to forestall her.

“Wait for me,” he said. “I don’t want you setting a foot out there alone. It’s not fully light and you’re not even dressed.”

“No one will see me,” she pointed out.

“We’ll do it together.” His tone didn’t brook any argument. “You’ll need to change your shoes,” he added firmly. “And put on a cloak. The snow may be thawing, but it’s still cold and wet underfoot.”

“There’s boots by the door, and my cloak.”

“By the time you’re wrapped up, I’ll have this fire going.”

Mathilde nodded, and stuffed her feet into her ankle boots, casting a furtive look his way and hoping he did not notice she had no stockings on. He was nearly as cautious as her old Nurse! She drew on her cloak and fastened the ties. By the time she pulled the hood over her curly hair, wishing she had thought to draw a comb through it, he had straightened up, and was holding his hand out for hers. She took it and then opened the door and led him up the path to where the hens were still shut up in their make-shift home.

“You draw the flap back here — you see how it is secured with these leather ties?” He looked over her shoulder. “It was entirely of Robin’s own design,” she told him proudly.

“Ingenious.”

They found four eggs among the straw and released the clucking hens into their run. “One each!” Mathilde exclaimed. “Rob wants a goat next, for milk,” she told him merrily, as they returned to the kitchen. “How shall we cook our eggs?”

“Boil them?” he suggested after a moment’s pause.

“Oh yes, of course,” Mathilde agreed brightly. For some reason, he seemed strangely watchful as she poked among the pots, looking for a smaller pot to place above the fire and boil the water. He had to help her attach the pot to the chain as she couldn’t quite figure out the clasp. Then she burned her finger, and he immediately plunged her whole hand into a water jug.

“Keep it there a while,” he growled at her when she went to remove it.

“But I want to slice the bread.”

“You’ll cut your finger off next.”

Mathilde’s face fell. “I haven’t done it before,” she mumbled, feeling embarrassed.

Whatever he had been going to say died on his tongue, as his expression softened. “Count to fifty,” he said. “Then you can take your hand out of the water.” Mathilde nodded. “Where’s the bread?”

“Prudie baked a fresh batch yesterday. There should be loaves in the pantry.”

He walked into the adjoining room and Mathilde sighed, drawing her fingers out of the cold water. One looked rather pinker than the others, but otherwise seemed none the worse for its experience. She dried her hands on a cloth and went to find a knife. Usually, when dressed in her practical green gown, she wore the knife he had given her still at her hip. But today she was not fully dressed, so she needed to find one of Prudie’s. She heard Guy’s footsteps as he returned with a round loaf.